Protect'n the Secret Identity
by UselessReptile
Summary: Roy expresses his concerns about Garth's costume.


"You need contacts."

"…excuse me?"

Roy smirked as the Atlantean glanced back at him, taking another large bite of his sandwich. Garth lowered the plate he had pulled from the cabinet below and turned fully to face him with an arched brow. "I need what?"

"Contacts," the redhead answered curtly. He swallowed the bite and leaned back on the stool, lifting his elbows off the counter top. Garth blinked at him again.

"…_contacts_?"

Roy grunted as he downed another mouthful. "Yeah, y'know, those things Karen puts in every morn'n so she doesn't have to use her glasses—" he briefly used his sandwich to point into the living area "—over there."

Garth looked into the command center, squinting a little. After a few seconds he turned his head back to the archer, a confused expression riddled across his face.

"But…I can see just fine without contacts…why would I need—"

"No, no, not the see'n contacts," Roy interrupted, lightly dropping his sandwich onto his plate. He watched one of the black olives roll out of the bread slices. "The, uh, fancy-ass ones that change the color of your eyes."

The Atlantean blinked once more, his brow furrowing as the edge of his mouth drew back a bit. "And…why do I need _those_?"

"Jeeze, Garth, you've been on land…what? Two years now? Please tell me you've picked this up."

"…picked…what up?"

Roy snorted. "Your eyes are freaking BLACK. _No one _else on land has black eyes. And in case you're really that DENSE, most've us superheroes have these little things called secret identities to keep…ever heard'a those?"

"Uh. Yeah. I have one."

"…no you don't!"

"Yeah I do! I'm not Aqualad right now, I'm 'Garth'! Your secret identity is your real name—c'mon, Roy, I know that. …don't tell me I need a _last_ name, too."

The redhead stared at him for a moment. He waited until Garth was obviously uneasy and searching his face for some sort of non-verbal answer before he finally smirked. This response wasn't necessarily new to Garth, but, it had never been one he liked. He briefly let out a huff as Roy sat forward again.

"See, Garth, there's a hell of a lot more to keep'n your secret identity than just change'n your name," he stated in a tone that made Garth roll his eyes. Roy caught this and snatched the nearest napkin, balling it up and tossing it at his head. Garth ducked out of the way as he continued talking. "I mean--" he raised the pitch of his voice "-- 'Oh hi! What? No, I'm not Garth, I'm clearly Unitard-Guy! Because I'm wearing SPANDEX!'--"

"My suit's not _spandex_!" Garth cut in. Roy jerked his hand up and he snapped his jaw shut again, roughly folding his arms as the redhead's smirk grew. "People can't recognize ya either, y'know. Why do you think I wear a mask? And you're out there waltzing around with freaking black eyes, both in or outta your _spandex_ unitard! You need contacts or a mask or…at least a pair of sunglasses!"

The Atlantean glowered cooly at him. "…I think I'll be okay, Roy."

"It's not you I'm worried about."

Garth blinked, squinting briefly. "…uh?"

"People aren't stupid, Sharkboy. Seriously. They're gonna start notice'n that the black-eyed Atlantean is consistently hanging out with a good-looking redhead. And they'll be all 'oh, shit! That must be Speedy!'. And then they'll come slit my neck in my sleep and attack Ollie and Dinah, and I'll be like 'freaking Garth, should have worn contacts' and haunt your ass for the rest of eternity."

"If you're that concerned about people recognizing your hair, Roy, then _you_ should consider investing in something that will cover it. Like a hood or a cowl."

Roy stared at him, his head tilting down a bit. "…Garth, be reasonable. My life is at stake, here."

Garth gave him another prolonged blink, leaning his back against the counter. "…I think _we'll_ be okay, Roy."

"Yeah?" The archer inched forward so he leaned on the counter with his crossed arms. "How can you be so sure 'bout that? Huh? M'not gonna wake up one morn'n with Control Freak hover'n at the end of my bed wait'n to zap me into _Nightmare on Elm Street—_or worse—_Dora the Explorer_, am I?"

Garth stared back at him, neither of them speaking for a few seconds. Then, he held up a finger and pushed off the counter, briskly stepping past Roy's seat and out of the kitchen. Roy twisted on the stool just enough to watch Garth walk into the living area and scoop Karen's glasses case off the coffee table. He raised a brow as the Atlantean reentered the kitchen, stopping on the opposite side of the counter from him. Garth opened the case and carefully slid the glasses into the palm of his hand. "Observe."

Roy allowed himself to sit back as Garth rested his elbows on the counter, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I…am Superman." He separated the glasses and placed them on the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to adjust them before lowering his hands again. "…I am _not_ Superman."

Roy remained quiet and stared back at him. Then, he grunted, unfolding his arms and holding out one of his hands.

"…touché."


End file.
